


Voldemort Kisses

by lastcrazyhorn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom!Voldemort, Creature Inheritance, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mpreg, Top!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:44:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5413853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastcrazyhorn/pseuds/lastcrazyhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort didn’t use his tongue when kissing, Harry noticed right away.  When asked about it, the other man grimaced and told him that he thought the act was unsanitary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voldemort Kisses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SSDSnape](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SSDSnape/gifts).



> Quite possibly the closest I will ever get to writing crack.

Voldemort didn’t use his tongue when kissing, Harry noticed right away.  When asked about it, the other man grimaced and told him that he thought the act was unsanitary.  When pressed, the Dark Lord admitted that having another person’s tongue in his mouth felt something akin to sucking on a flobberworm.  Slimy.  Gross.  _Not_ arousing. 

He had never kissed someone who didn’t like using tongue, but mentally, Harry had shrugged and gone back to trying to get the Dark Lord’s shirt off.  It was harder than it looked.  Unsurprisingly, Voldemort was paranoid, and there were a number of nasty spells that Harry had to unwind and manipulate just to begin to see flesh. 

“Do you like to be licked?” He huffed, somewhat frustrated. 

He had found the man’s nipples and looked upward with a questioning expression.

“I . . . I do not know,” Voldemort admitted uncomfortably.  “Where might you be licking, and would I be expected to reciprocate?” 

Harry grinned and pointed out one of Voldemort’s pale pink nipples. 

“I don’t mind if you don’t re-cip-ro-cate,” Harry said, grinning stupidly and stripping off his own unspelled shirt with ease. 

“Do not act unintelligent, Harry.  It is beneath you,” Voldemort chided, banishing both of their clothes with a snap of his fingers. 

Harry’s eyebrows disappeared under his bangs, and he squeaked at the sudden lack of barriers between them.

“Why didn’t you just do that earlier?” Harry demanded, pushing Voldemort backward towards the unreasonably large bed. 

It was Voldemort’s turn to smile coldly. 

“I enjoy watching you work,” Was all he was willing to admit.

“I’d call you a bastard, but . . .,” Harry trailed off with a sneer.

“Let’s not be any more redundant than we must, hmm?” Voldemort responded, pulling Harry atop of him as he stretched out on the bed.

“This is a bloody big bed,” Harry growled, warm skin under his thighs too smooth and perfect to believe.

“What did I just say about redundancy?”  Voldemort demanded, pinching Harry’s ass sharply and delighting in the other man’s yelp.

Harry responded by latching onto one of the Dark Lord’s nipples and sucking hard.

Voldemort gasped at the sudden sensation and slapped Harry’s arse. 

Harry returned the gesture by biting down, and Voldemort’s head hit the bed with an audible thump. 

“Oh.  Oh, that’s very nice,” The older man managed to stutter out. 

The imp atop him licked harder for a moment before releasing his nipple with a wet pop. 

“How do you feel about having your cock inside someone else’s body?” 

“My penis will never be entering your or anyone else’s rectal cavity,” The Dark Lord retorted with a flash of red light in his eyes.  “You do know what comes out of one’s ‘arse,’ as you so eloquently call it?”

“There are spells for that, you know.”

“I do not care.”

Harry pouted for a moment before perking back up with an unholy light in his vivid green eyes.

“Do you care if someone puts something in _your_ arse?”

The Dark Lord frowned and let out a long unintelligible hiss of sound. 

“No one has ever had the bollocks to suggest it.”

Harry’s grin widened and his canines sharpened ever so slightly. 

“Oh, wise Dark Lord, sir!  Might I please put my lower than low _penis_ in your nice clean arse!?”  Harry chortled, gripping both of Voldemort’s nipples, and twisting sharply. 

Voldemort cursed and flipped them easily, ignoring the flames that were burning brightly in the other man’s eyes.

“You would do well to treat me with a bit more reverence,” He warned, nipples still smarting from Harry’s dual assault.

“You would do well not to underestimate me,” Harry hissed, flipping them back over and magically binding Voldemort’s hands to the headboard.

“I don’t believe you have the guts to do what your actions seem to be proposing,” Voldemort challenged, hands still bound.

“ _Accio_ lube,” Harry spat, and wandlessly cancelled his disillusionment spell on his flaming tail. 

“Ah, so this is what you were hiding.  Clever little minx,” Voldemort praised, watching the tail move back and forth behind Harry’s back. 

Roughly shoving Voldemort’s thin, pale legs up and out of the way, Harry coated a finger and bravely pressed it sharply into the man’s tight sphincter. 

Voldemort hissed and bared his teeth at his predator. 

“What kind of inheritance did you come into?  Does your precious Order know?”  Voldemort’s keen eyes roved over Harry’s body with greedy interest.

Harry smirked and simply added another finger.  

“They’d have to open their eyes to notice,” His grin widening as Voldemort grimaced in obvious discomfort.

“You seem to take delight in my pain,” Voldemort noted, trying not to let the predator above him know exactly what kind of pain only two fingers were causing his body.

“I can hear your heartrate increasing.  Can you smell my endorphins?  I can smell your arousal, although I commend you on your efforts in keeping your cock flaccid,” Harry said in a low growl that made something flutter in the Dark Lord’s stomach.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Voldemort snapped back, pale flesh dotted with sweat as he tried to pull away from Harry’s burning digits.

“You have nowhere to go.”

It was true.  He tried to break free of Harry’s spell, but something was keeping him in place.  Whether it was the boy’s own innate magic or simply something added as part of his inheritance, the older man didn’t know, but he didn’t like it. 

“I could yell and have half a dozen Death Eaters here in seconds,” Voldemort threatened, feeling his awareness narrowing down to the fingers in his rectum and the cold green eyes staring down at him.

“Only if you like having an audience,” Harry warned, removing his fingers and replacing them with something that burned even more.

“You—,” Voldemort choked, cheeks tinting pink with fury. 

His pale chest arched upward, and Harry watched in fascination as every muscle tensed in an effort to push him back out. 

Harry’s body began to glow with a green fire.  Voldemort felt as though he had bitten into a particularly spicy pepper that was starting to burn from the outside in, as opposed as to the other way around. He gasped for air as his breathing became laboured, and the pain in his rectum threatened to explode throughout the rest of his body. 

“I do not find this an acceptable way to pass the time,” He gasped aloud. 

“You _need_ to relax,” The demon between his legs hissed.

Voldemort managed to choke out a bark of incredulous laughter.

Gentle fingers grasped his face and he felt a thumb stroke across his lips.  The burning intrusion pushed farther in, and he found himself closing his eyes to the frightening visage in front of him.  Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined this scenario. 

“You will stop this madness at once,” Voldemort attempted to command, trying not to let desperation leak into his words. 

“Shh,” Harry said, kissing his lips with a closed mouth. 

A slick hand touched the tip of his penis, pulling a calloused finger across and causing his control to dip slightly.  Magic swirled around his bed as hairline cracks appeared in the very walls around them.  His lips tingled with sensation, and suddenly fire of a different kind began to spread through his veins.

“What,” Voldemort asked hoarsely.  “What are you doing to me?”

“Don’t you feel better?” 

It was a ludicrous question.  His lips burned coolly in tandem with the fire in his _arse_ and the blood still pushing its way into his penis. 

“An . . . an aphrodisiac in your kiss.  You secrete with . . . with your lips,” He shakily managed to say. 

“Very good.  An Outstanding to Mr Riddle.”

Suddenly the intrusion in his rectum became second to the false arousal that Harry’s kiss had spread—was _still_ spreading—through his body.

Harry was moving within him now.  His motions were gentle, at least in comparison with the hand moving back and forth across his penis, every stroke bringing more cold fire to his bloodstream. 

“Open your eyes, my lovely Dark Lord,” Harry crooned. 

He didn’t want to.  He wanted to stay cocooned within his head, the pain and unforgiveable arousal merely a dream outside his mind.

 _‘Open,’_ Harry hissed in a commanding tone.

His eyelids opened to a scene out of hell.  The room was on fire.  No— _he_ was on fire.  They both were.  The fire was sickly green, not dissimilar to the Killing Curse.  His heart tried to stop and a scream attempted to bubble out of his lungs with no thought as to how it would be perceived by the creature controlling him.

“No,” He whispered, yanking futilely on his headboard, his mind screaming even if his body had regained its control. 

“We are _not_ burning,” Harry’s free hand dropped coldly onto his wildly beating chest.  “We are mating.”

If his words had meant to be comforting, they were not.  And it was without further ado that his eyes rolled back into his head and he slipped downward into oblivion.

. . .

He awoke several hours later in his bed alone with a worried looking Severus Snape sitting in a chair next to him.

“Severus?” Voldemort gasped out, still feeling the echoes of fire licking through his veins. 

“My Lord,” Severus started and reached out a hand for him. 

He latched onto it gratefully, and resolutely refused to let go until his heart had calmed down somewhat.

“You have been screaming in your sleep for hours,” Severus answered him with a worried expression not often seen on his typically dour face.

He might have laughed if not for the seriousness of the situation. 

“My . . . sleep?   He wasn’t here?”

“Who, my Lord?”

“Harry Potter.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed in thoughtfulness.

“No one has been here except those who are authorized.” 

Recalling the boy’s last words to him, he began to mentally fret. 

“I need you to scan me.”

“For what?”

“Things out of place,” Voldemort snapped, not willing to give any more voice to his fears than he already had.

The barest breath of hesitation and then Severus acquiesced. 

. . .

It wasn’t possible.

It couldn’t be possible.

It _wasn’t_ possible.  It wasn’t even _conceivable._

Severus had run the tests _three_ times, and each time, they had returned positive.

He was pregnant.  With the demon spawn of Harry Potter. 


End file.
